


Of Sortings and New Beginnings

by Gezellig



Series: Ad Honorem [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aristocracy, Gen, Harry and Neville are godsiblings, The Cultus ex Magicae, The Potters Live, Wizarding Culture (Harry Potter), Wizarding Traditions, some Malfoy bashing, wizarding society
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-12-03 04:40:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11524752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gezellig/pseuds/Gezellig
Summary: The adventures of Neville Longbottom and Harrison Potter, godbrothers, noble heirs, and best friends, as they enter Hogwarts and the wider wizarding world for the first time. Featuring an ensemble of characters, magical creatures, inter-species relations, and the complex social world of the Peerage.*on temporary hiatus*





	1. The Sorting

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back again! I would have loved to post and update more, but real life really gets in the way sometimes. This popped into my head and wouldn't leave me alone, may or may not become a series of one-shots (but that all depends on my schedule and the cooperation of the muse). 
> 
> There is a new system of titles for the peerage of this wizarding world, which I'll be using from now on:  
> Heir/Heiress- heir apparent to any family  
> Lord/Lady- any other children of the main line from any gentry family, or head of a cadet branch of a house  
> Master/Mistress- any children of cadet lines
> 
> Archidux/Archiduae- head of an Original house; from the medieval Latin for archiduke  
> Duke/Duchess- head of an Ancient and Noble house   
> Marquess/Marchioness- head of a Noble house  
> Baron/Baroness- head of an Ancient house  
> Dame- the widow of the former head of any house  
> Paterfamilias/Materfamilias- former head of any main line of a family; they deal with internal politics of the house   
> Sir/Miss- a newblood ( muggleborn who fully adopts magical culture) or blood traitor who fully repents

For those who ran in the right circles, that is to say, the nobility and gentry and those that followed them, the fall of 1991 was met with great anticipation and excitement. The sorting of this year’s Hogwarts class would reveal many things, it was rumored, even the possibility of new scions- heirs even- from the Original families. There were scions from all of the Original families of the UK at Hogwarts, but it had been several years since an heir had been in attendance.

The Originals and their peers guarded their children with a fervor unlike anything else- only a scant few were actually seen in public before the age of 11, as children were sacred and precious and had magic that was out of control. Children were socialized, of course, as to lock them away would be a horrible disservice to their development, but it always happened behind the strong wards of family manors. 

Rumors though, abounded like nothing else. Rumors of a child from Duke and Duchess Longbottom, the rumored sole heir of the elderly Duke Nott, and most scandalously, a child from both the family of Potter and Greengrass. All rumors, though, were put to rest on September first, 1991.

The platform was unusually busy for 10 AM, buzzing with more noise than usual. The chatter rose when Duke and Duchess Longbottom, along with Archidux and Archiduae Potter arrived together with two young boys between them.

Duchess Longbottom and Archiduae Potter had been long-time friends, so it was no surprise that they came together. The moment of surprise was when both young wizards were given warm and affectionate goodbyes from both sets of parents- normally one was never so familiar with another’s child, especially the heir, excluding the case of godparents. Godparents were recorded by the ministry, but the names had been sealed for both the Heir Longbottom and Heir Potter, causing much scandal. This certainly put the rumors to rest. 

Duke Nott approached the couple, relying a little more on his cane than he had the last time he was seen in public, a young boy that had to be his Heir following close behind. He swept into a low bow in front of the Potters, his son executing a textbook perfect bow; the Notts had always followed protocol down to the letter.

“It is an honor for my Heir to be in the same cohort as your own, Archidux Potter,” the older man said formally, “it would give me the greatest pleasure if bonds of friendship formed.”

The Archidux shared a quick look with the Archiduae before placing a hand on his heir’s shoulder, “As would I, Duke Nott,” he said mildly, “it has been some time since there were true friendships between our houses.” The fact that several of the Duke’s lower relations had fell in with the upstart dark lord that crippled his father, the Paterfamilias Potter was left unmentioned, but hung heavily in the air.

“It was a pleasure and an honor to meet your heir, Archidux Potter,” Duke Nott said stiffly, “but I am afraid I must beg my leave.” Archidux Potter inclined his head, silently giving his permission, and the Duke Nott, along with his Heir, left the sextet to their privacy once more.

Duchess Longbottom looked in the direction of the public fireplaces, her eyes hardening for the briefest of moments, “Have we moved the boy’s things onto the train yet?” she asked, her light tone a little forced.

“We did, remember?” The slightly taller boy, who shared the Duchess’s kind eyes, said, confused as to why his mother had seemingly forgotten something they had done not even 10 minutes ago.

Duke Longbottom had followed his lady’s eyes, understanding her sudden amnesia when he saw the family approaching their little group. “Yes, Godmama,” the other boy, the Heir Potter said, interested too as to why his godmother was suddenly forgetful, “we met the conductor too, don’t you remember that?.”

Duchess Longbottom had stepped in front of the two boys, blocking their view of the next set of people wanting an audience with the Potter family, “Oh yes!” she said gaily, “how could I have forgotten about the conductor! He was very polite, was he not, Archiduae?” she asked, speaking to her best friend and steadfastly ignoring the trio standing several feet away.

“He was, my dear Duchess,” the beautiful Archiduae replied, stepping a little closer so she could whisper in her ear, “but you mustn't be so petty, Alice. You know the Marquess Malfoy has been waiting for an audience.”

Each woman stepped to the side, standing beside their lord, the faintest hint of a blush covering Duchess Longbottom’s cheeks. Duke Longbottom had placed both his hands on his heir’s shoulders and looked impassive as he stared at the small group in front of them.

Marquess Malfoy stood with his lady, the Baroness Malfoy, and his heir, looking as prideful and haughty as ever. The Heir Malfoy, light of coloring like both his parents and slight like his mother, was one of the few children that had been seen in public before today.

Baroness Malfoy had once been Mistress Black, and it had caused great scandal when the betrothal between herself and the then Heir Malfoy had been announced. Between the scandal of Heir and Master Black’s birth, and the ignominious elopement of the former Andromeda Black with a muggleborn, a betrothal seen beneath the station of a Black was another scandal the Black family didn’t need.

The trio stood stiffly, painfully aware of both their lower station and the public opinion, waiting for the Archidux to acknowledge their presence. The two boys between the Potters and Longbottoms shared a look of some meaning, both clearly finding amusement out of something. After what seemed like hours, Archidux Potter nodded his head curtly, “Marquess Malfoy, Marchioness Malfoy.” Both, along with their son, swept into deep bows.

“Archidux Potter, Archiduae Potter, Duke Longbottom, Duchess Longbottom,” Marquess Malfoy said, slightly stiff as he inclined his head to each of his social betters, “it is my pleasure to introduce my eldest child, the Heir Malfoy.” The young boy bowed once, and a little too quickly, as if unused to performing the action.

Archidux Potter’s eyes had flashed in anger when Marquess Malfoy had said eldest child, clearly implying that he had other children. You didn’t go about mentioning your other, younger offspring in public. It was rudeness of the highest degree, as some families struggled to have even one child, and dangerous as you revealed more weaknesses. 

He tightened his grip on his son’s shoulder, his heir looking up briefly in confusion. It had long since passed when magical children were stolen out of the home by rival families or faeries and replaced with foundlings, but those protective instincts were nature by now. “Papa?” his son’s voice held confusion, and a slight undercurrent of fear, and James immediately loosened his grip, fearful that he caused his precious child pain.

“I’ll explain later.” he said softly into Harrison’s ear, his son’s shoulder losing their stiffness as he relaxed.

“A pleasure.” Duke Longbottom said formally, since neither his lady, nor neither of the Potters were going to respond, choosing to not introduce his own son, or his godson.

“Will you be at the next Witches Council meeting, Marchioness Malfoy?” Duchess Longbottom asked politely, a small smile upon her face, meeting eyes with Archiduae Potter.

Marchioness Malfoy stiffened, “I’m afraid I cannot claim a spot upon the Witches Council, Duchess Longbottom.” she said stiffly, not liking the Duchess’s dig, which only reminded her of what she no longer had access to.

“Pity.” Duchess Longbottom said, not sounding sad at all, “Your input would have been greatly useful at our last assembly, correct, Archiduae Potter?”

“The input of the Baroness would have been a great asset.” Archiduae Potter agreed, “Perhaps we can enter talks with Dame Marchbanks on extending an invitation to the Marchioness?” she asked, looking directly at Duchess Longbottom as she arched a single eyebrow.

Marchioness Malfoy looked shocked.“You would have the endless thanks and eternal gratitude of the Marchioness and myself if you would be willing to do such a thing,” Marquess Malfoy said smoothly, the Marchioness being at a loss for words.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Archiduae Potter acquiesced, turning to whisper something into the ear of the Archidux. Sensing their dismissal, the Malfoy family left.

“Dame Marchbanks has never liked the Malfoys,” Duke Longbottom said lowly.“She’ll never agree to inviting Baroness Malfoy onto the Witches Council. There’s no need to give the woman false hope.”

That wasn't to say Duke Longbottom liked the Malfoy family; Franklin didn't dislike them nearly as much as his lady did, but he did have something against actions performed under false pretenses.

The time passed quickly- friends, acquaintances, social climbers all stopped by to give their greetings and pay their respects to the Potters and Longbottoms. All too soon the whistle atop the engine blew, signaling that the train would leave in 7 minute’s time. Both boys were gathered into warm hugs, kisses were given by mothers that tried to hide their tears, and quiet reminders from anxious fathers to enjoy themselves, but remember their duties and their station.

Harrison and Neville quickly settled into a compartment in the middle of the train; away from the back of the train, where the older students tended to gather, and away from the muggleborns that left the somewhat sheltered young heirs bewildered. 

A pair of identical twins came into view, and one knocked tentatively on the sliding door. Neville and Harrison both shot up, having had it instilled in them that you always stood when a lady entered the room, and pulled open the door. “You honor us with your presence, fair ladies,” Harrison said as he bowed, and Neville followed suit.

Both girls ducked their heads in shyness, clutching arms. “And you honor us with your kindness, my lords,” the one on the left demurred, her sister’s shy eyes still downcast. “Would we be requesting too much by asking to join your compartment?” Harrison noticed that their dark hair was braided down their backs- he’d have to find out what that meant, as he’d never seen a witch wear her hair like that in public before.

Neville and Harrison looked at each other briefly in bewilderment- there were only a handful of other scions they interacted with, and neither was sure how to interact in such a way that was polite and still within the rules of propriety. 

“Of course,” Neville said suddenly, surprising both himself and Harrison in speaking up. The twins entered and sat close together across from the just-as-nervous Harrison and Neville. No one spoke for a long time, neither party sure what exactly to say- this was everyone’s first foray into the world of alliances and friendships and following propriety without the guidance of their parents.

By the time the train reached Hogsmeade, the quartet had opened up to each other. Harrison and Neville learned that the twins, Heiress and Lady Patil, were relatively new to Britain (four generations) and that their family was involved in the spice trade. The Patil twins learned of Harrison’s status as an Original, and Neville’s familial interest in herbology. No one was comfortable enough to move beyond surnames and titles, but it was a start, and that was enough.

They shared a boat across the lake, led by the massive half-giant, called Hagrid. Archidux Potter had assured his son and godson was friendly and wouldn’t hurt a fly, but was still scary nonetheless. Neville and Harrison helped the twins out of the boat once they reached Hogwarts, all four in awe of the grand castle, and gallantly escorted them to the massive door and into the side hall.

Professor McGonagall, a witch the boys knew, gave an interesting speech about houses and family, Neville and Harrison whispering assurances that she was nowhere near as scary as she looked. She left them to their devices, telling all 75 students to stay put or there ‘would be severe consequences.’

A low buzz filled the air with a nervous excitement. One young witch stepped out and made her way through the hall to Harrison and Neville- her robes had the cut and make of nobility, and her red hair was piled atop her head in the tradition of the Ancient Ways. She looked familiar, but neither heir could place her name, nor her family, for the crest on her signet ring was facing her person.

She held out her skirts, exposing her ankles for the briefest of moments, before sinking into a low curtsey, “Heir Potter,” she said formally, eyes still downcast. With clarity, Harrison remembered who the witch was; Heiress Bones, only child from the main line of the Matriarchal house of Bones.

Gently Harrison removed Lady Patil’s arm from his and put his hand courteously on the elbow of Heiress Bones, like he had seen his father do before. She rose from her curtsey with a grace usually not found in an 11 year old witch, and bobbed a shorter curtsey in the direction of Heir Longbottom, who gave her a short bow in return.

He gave her a small smirk as acknowledgement, and looking rather pleased, Heiress Bones went back on her way, linking arms with a blonde girl and whispering softly in her ear. The wizard-raised acted normal, as such events were commonplace in their society, but the muggle-born and raised were left somewhat confused.

“Is everyone always this formal?- this isn’t the 19th century.” a bossy sounding voice asked from the back of the room, the children of noble houses all looking shocked- why was being polite, and more importantly following propriety, something to be derisive of?

Any further talk, or insults given, was cut short by the return of Professor McGonagall, who had them line up. Turning sharply, she lead them through a side door and into the Great Hall, where even the most trained pureblood couldn't keep their shocked gasps quiet.

It wasn’t the size of the Great Hall, utterly enormous, or the candles in hover charms above their heads (for anyone raised within the wizarding world saw such on a daily basis), but the ceiling that took their breath away. Charmed with magics so long lost that even the Original families didn’t have them, the vaulted ceiling of the Great Hall looked like the night sky, alive with stars.

The frayed and patched hat, something that Harrison knew belonged to his ancestor Godric Gryffindor, began to sing. The song was somewhat interesting, talking about all four houses and the qualities of each, and even gave a bit of advice about unity. It stopped signing, Professor McGonagall came to the front of the hall, which was now filled with an air of excitement, and nervousness from the young students waiting to be sorted.

This would be the only time their first names would be spoken aloud in public, sans titles as well. Godric Gryffindor had disliked the growing formality of magical society, and had charmed the sorting hat accordingly. The nobles didn’t like the fact that their first names were given so freely, that being reserved for family and the closest of friends, but there was nothing they could do about it unless they wished to go to the smaller, and less renown Drȳcræft (which few actually did). With her usual no-nonsense manner, Professor McGonagall unfurled the scroll and the sorting began.

Excited whispers arose each time a child from a noble family was called forward, and even more so upon the sorting of Harrison and Lady Daphne Greengrass, both from Original families. There would be many letters written home tonight.

Children from secretive Scottish clans found new homes in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, noble heirs and scions could be accounted for in all four houses, and Gryffindor and Slytherin claimed the honor of Originals among their ranks.

All in all, a very productive night indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)
> 
> Many thanks to Alix the Alien Cyborg for being a fantastic beta


	2. Detractors and Defenders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by Alix the Alien Cyborg

Hogwarts was interesting, Harrison decided as the second week of term came to an end; very different from what he was used to, but fascinating all the same. There were more people in the castle than he’d ever seen in one place- excluding the times he’d been in the muggle world or historical sites with his tutors- and classes were intriguing. Some of his classmates left him a little perturbed; the fact that people had been raised without lessons in deportment and etiquette was shocking to the young heir. He’d long been used to the fact that very few of his peers would have the same responsibilities he did as an Original, but their manner and state of being were a source of endless confusion.

This too, was the first time Harrison had really interacted with people who were against the gentry; the small, but vocal faction that opposed the traditions and standards the peerage held themselves too. He and Neville, his god brother and closest friend in the world, had been quite shaken when an older Ravenclaw had raged at them for ‘supporting the oppression of magical creatures’ and ‘actively pushing discrimination against muggleborns’, his tirade lasting for nearly ten minutes before a seventh year Slytherin, Heir Leander Greengrass, had come to their rescue.

As a Prefect (but not Head Boy, that was a Hufflepuff), Heir Greengrass had taken points away from Ravenclaw house and berated the wizard for going after those younger than him. “It’s always frightening the first time you encounter people like that,” he said reassuringly once the seething wizard had stalked off, “but there are so few of them that they become easy to ignore, and their arguments easy to refute, for they haven’t changed much in the last 30 years.” Heir Greengrass was someone Harrison wanted to resemble when he was older; the elder wizard carried himself with an easy grace, was courteous to all, and talented in all areas of academia- Papa had told him Heir Greengrass had plans to spend time with the British Embassy before taking up the usual duties of Original scions upon their graduation.

Neville had been shocked into silence, he was shyer than Harrison to begin with, and this experience had left him rattled. Harrison himself looked at Heir Greengrass with wide eyes, “Mum was a muggleborn,” he said, voice showing the fear he still held, “why would I want to discriminate against muggleborns when my mum was one once?” He could navigate and understand the muggle world to a certain degree, and held nothing against those without magic (though they were a source of endless confusion), even though the relationship between his mother and her muggle sister was nonexistent.

Heir Greengrass looked thoughtful for a moment, but Neville found his voice quicker than the older wizard could find an adequate response, “Your mum’s been a newblood since her fourth year of Hogwarts, right?” at Harrison’s nod, Neville continued, looking thoughtful, “Once she started courting, and bonded with your dad, she became an Original..” he stopped there, trying to come up with the right sentiments to accurately convey his thoughts, but not finding adequate words. Neville hadn’t spent as much time in the muggle world as Harrison, and didn’t have the same grasp of wizard-muggle relations (and a larger dose of wariness towards the muggle world).

“And once she became the Archiduae Potter, many among United Britain felt that she had turned her back on the muggle population, and betrayed muggleborns.” Heir Greengrass said, speaking of the far-left group that advocated for integration of muggle culture into the wizarding world and dissolution of the gentry and the rules of propriety, “They like to ignore the fact that she headed the coalition that brought the wizarding culture classes back to Hogwarts, which will start next term, and saw the takedown of many discriminatory laws against muggleborns.”

It made Harrison proud to hear people speak of his mother’s accomplishments, which she did in addition to her duties as an Original, and helped calm his still racing heart and anxious mind. A lanky redhead, whom both Gryffindors recognized as one of their Prefects, came to a stop next to their small group, and after making the appropriate bows, he said “If I may add to this conversation?” 

Heir Greengrass inclined his head, and the other wizard spoke again, “It’s nearly impossible for some people to get over their bullish stubbornness and long held prejudices.” He, to Harrison, sounded as if he had an intimate knowledge of the matter, “Some people will refuse to see the facts, or consider the other side, no matter how hard you try.”

“You above all have an intimate understanding of that, Sir Weasley,” Heir Greengrass said with respect, leaving the younger two wizards bemused for a brief moment, before they remembered who exactly Sir Weasley was.

Sir Percival Weasley was the third child of Arthur and Molly Weasley, the current heads of the family. Arthur, in his fascination with Muggle culture, had attempted to coerce a witch into a marriage in his sixth year, which in the magical world was the equivalent of a life-long mistress. Add to the fact that the witch in question had been from an Ancient and Noble house, and the Weasley family had lost their Ancient status and gained the title of Blood Traitor. 

They had been expunged from the gentry, losing all rights to practice the traditions and rites and the status that came along with it. Molly Weasley, once Molly Prewett, had been disowned by her grandfather for marrying Arthur; as such, the Weasleys became strong detractors of the peerage. Sir Weasley, unlike his most of his siblings, had a fascination with the gentry and their traditions. Once at Hogwarts, he had fought tooth and nail to gain the title of newblood, causing much strain with his family. Word had it that Heir Fabian Prewett, his uncle though his disowned mother, had plans of making the young man his Heir once he assumed the mantle of Marquess Prewett.

Sir Weasley only nodded in response, not wishing to talk more of his family then he had to. Harrison suddenly had a newfound respect for him, as did Neville, for it was one thing to read of such scandal in books and hear of it from others, but quite different to meet a person directly involved. Sir Weasley’s youngest brother, Ronald, was their year in Gryffindor, but he had ignored the existence of Harrison and Neville since the night of the sorting. His twin brothers, Fred and George, were pranksters and notorious across the school for their antics.

“It’s getting late, almost near curfew,” Sir Weasley said after a long moment of silence, “and it wouldn't do for heirs of the gentry to be caught out in the castle at such an hour.”

“Right you are, Sir Weasley,” Heir Greengrass replied, “and I must beg my leave, as I have rounds tonight in the dungeons.” The task would be tedious, as the large majority of Slytherin house had better tact than to wander the castle at night (or be so obvious that they would get caught), and the dungeons were such a maze that it was common to find lost students. Heir Greengrass often came across students in the middle of amorous actions, causing many witches of the gentry to refuse Prefect status- none ever wished to see their fellow students behaving in such a debase manner.

“A bheannaigh, Heir Greengrass.” Harrison said with a bow, speaking for Neville and Sir Weasley as he was the highest ranked. Sir Weasley was thankful he didn’t have rounds tonight, and even more glad he was only scheduled to patrol the dungeons three times this term. 

“A bheannaigh to you as well, Heir Potter, and to Heir Longbottom and Sir Weasley.” Heir Greengrass replied with a low bow of his own. Propriety satisfied, Heir Greengrass turned and left, heading towards the dungeons. The two young heirs were well protected with Sir Weasley, and he had no qualms about their safe return to Gryffindor Tower.

The trio was quiet as they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, each consumed with thoughts of their own. They reached the Fat Lady, joining a crowd of fellow Gryffindors coming in from the grounds, and filed into the somewhat crowded room. Students of all ages sat around the common room, working on assignments or simply goofing off. When Harrison was spotted, a fair amount got to their feet and bowed. Harrison acknowledged the bows with a nod of his head, not seeing those who made disgusted faces.

“Is that absolutely necessary every time he enters a room?” Hermione Granger’s scathing voice carried through the loud room, which became quite silent as her rude query was heard. In a mere two weeks she had made a great nuisance of herself, coming to annoy many. She hadn’t made any public enemies yet, but was coming very close to crossing that line. 

“I don’t demand that people bow or curtsey to me, Granger,” Harrison said,his voice dripping disdain, “I, as an Original Heir, am the highest ranked individual in the room. It is a sign of respect the others give me, something that I would never dare force another individual to do.” It could never be said that the Archidux and Archiduae Potter raised a bigot, but they had instilled it in Harrison to be polite and courteous to others, and he had come to dislike those who acted otherwise.

“It’s the twentieth century!” Granger shot back, “It’s absurd that people still require bows and curtseys and the excessive usage of titles. We are not in the Victorian era!” She found it ridiculous that people still acted in such a manner- putting others above them by what house they were born into, acting as if ancestry really mattered above all. It was backwards, demeaning, and ridiculous, in her opinion.

Lady Lada Vavasour looked like she wanted to smack Hermione across the face for her audacity, but as a true noblewoman would never resort to physical assault, she used her preferred weapon -words. “If you even bothered to open one of the myriad books about magical culture, instead of clinging to your foolish beliefs, you would understand why we all bow or curtsey to individuals like Heir Potter. I can put it in simpler terms, if you wish, as you seem incapable of comprehending written word?” she smirked as Granger’s face turned a rather unattractive shade of red, several other of the scions wearing similar smirks or grins of their own.

“Heir Potter’s family is one of the oldest in our world,” Lady Vavasour continued, talking as if Hermione were a small child, “and one of the first lines to be gifted with Magic. Since that time, they have served and protected our country tirelessly, and worked to keep the peace between all of Magic’s children and keep Her most sacred sites safe. They deserve nothing but the highest reverence we can give, since without them, we would be nothing more than squabbling bands of barbarians.” It went unsaid, but was clearly understood, that Lady Vavasour was of the opinion that Muggles were barbarians.

Hermione now looked as if she could explode with sheer rage. Wordless in her anger, for it was found out very quickly that nothing riled her more than insults to her intelligence or digs at her ancestry, she let out a sound that was somewhere between a grunt and a scream and pushed her way through the throng of people until she was at the stairs to the witches’ dorms, which she stomped up. Everyone heard a door open and close with such a bang that it would have fallen off its hinges if the castle wasn’t imbued with magic in every surface. The common room was silent for a long moment, before breaking out near simultaneously in excited chatter. All the details of Hermione Granger’s latest social faux pas would be known by the end of breakfast the next morning, and there was no doubt that the gossip mill would be going full speed.

Harrison made his way over to Lady Vavasour alone, Neville having started a conversation with Dean Thomas (a muggleborn wizard that Neville hoped to extend an offer of fostering to), wanting to thank her. The elegant witch was still seated in the same spot she was when she had given Hermione her dressing down, and had stood and given Harrison a low curtsey when he approached.

“Please sit, Fair Lady,” Harrison said, hoping that she could her the gratitude in his voice. It was still a little new for him to have older people giving him bows and curtseys of acknowledgement; he was still more used to seeing that being done for his father, mother, and grandparents. “You have my sincere thanks for the defense of my family, Lady Vavasour.”

Lady Vavasour, who had sat back down on the chair, looked serious, “Your thanks are much appreciated, Heir Potter, but there is no need for them. It is the least thing I can do, for I meant my words truly when I said that your family and the other Originals deserve our highest reverence.”

At this, Harrison wasn’t exactly sure what to say. He kept his usual look of polite indifference, but inside, his mind was swirling- what he and his family did was their duty, quite literally instilled in their bloodline. People were always respectful, but hearing someone actually speak it was a little odd. “I simply do my duty, Lady Vavasour.” he said modestly. 

Harrison knew why the Noble house of Vavasour were such stalwart supporters (often defenders) of House Potter; his family had quite literally saved hers from eradication generations ago, the Potters quietly giving the Vavasours vats of Achilles Restorative Draught, the incredibly challenging potion which was the only cure to the wasting disease that had been rapidly decimating their house. 

“And we are grateful for it, Heir Potter.” Lady Vavasour replied smoothly, rising and dipping into a curtsey, “ A bheannaigh.” she said lowly, making note of the United Britain supporters around her with haughty disgust. She herself was a staunch traditionalist, even as a fourth year, and despised those who wanted to see the downfall of her culture.

“A bheannaigh to you as well, Lady Vavasour.” Harrison replied, not really caring that those around him could clearly hear his traditional words of parting- if they couldn’t behave with the same politeness and courtesy Harrison afforded them, the young heir would ignore them. Lady Vavasour stood, and with several friends, headed for the witches’ dorms. 

Harrison decided to write a letter to his dad; the repetitive motions of writing always calmed him, and his dad gave the best advice. He had faced similar people from the moment he stepped foot in Hogwarts, and was always an endless reservoir of guidance and help. His father too could give him updates on his siblings; Harrison missed them dearly, and it was hard not to be homesick for the sound of Hadrian’s laughter and their broom races, or Hilaria’s requests to read just one more story and her giggles of delight when he gave all the characters funny voices.

It wouldn’t be long until Harrison saw them again though; he was due to assist his paterfamilias in the fall meeting with the Fae Queen, Astarte. The young heir was sure he could convince his pater to make a stop at Gryffon’s Rost before returning him to Hogwarts. The staff of Hogwarts had no right to complain that the Heir Potter was off grounds and missing class- the Potter family had been working with the Fae for millennia, and bad things tended to happen when the Fair Folk felt they had been slighted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! Comments make my day, so I'd love to hear what you lovely people have to say
> 
> And to clarify, the significance behind Arthur Weasley attempt at coercing a witch into marriage: in the magical world, people bond. Bonding is the melding of magic and soul, binding two together for eternity. A marriage binds one party (usually a witch) to the another (often a wizard), while leaving the other free to bond or persue another marriage and is not used in polite society.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :)
> 
> Many thanks to Alix the Alien Cyborg for being a fantastic beta


End file.
